


the universe is a curse

by littledancer



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lee Jeno & Na Jaemin Are Best Friends, M/M, Mental Health Issues, References to Depression, Suicide, Time Travel, i love this and i hate it, it's pretty sad ngl, jeno has a time-turner kinda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-03 14:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17286080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledancer/pseuds/littledancer
Summary: It's Jeno's five hundredth attempt in going back in time.All five hundred times, he is in love with his best friend.(“I’m Lee Jeno.”“Na Jaemin. Can I please repay you with a cup of coffee?”“That is the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard.” Jeno will always say this when he offers, but he always says yes anyway.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this was suppose to be 2k words max. whelp.
> 
> these were the songs i listened to while writing this mess, i highly encourage that you listen along to this  playlist  ! 
> 
> i mess up the rules of the time-turner ok it won't be anything like the harry potter one, it's just what will be used to go back in time 
> 
> the title is a lyric from "Parallel Universe" by Clara Benin. enjoy :)

 

 

 

This _isn’_ t how the story is supposed to end.

 

Jeno’s best friend isn’t supposed to throw himself in front of a speeding car. Isn’t supposed to die.

 

He clutches his hand around the gold metal chain dangling in the wind. There are 500 possible outcomes and choices he could make to alter the paths of their lives together. All of them end like this, with the deafening sound of a truck desperately attempting to break with a screech, but not without the loud thud of a body hitting the ground afterwards. A pool of his best friend’s blood stains the concrete.

 

With two spins of the turner, Jeno could return to a sunny day, feel the warm of his coffee cup and the hear the noise of the school halls once more. It’s a sound he has engraved into his mind, looping like a broken record: the 501st time.

 

It’s the 501st time Jaemin bumps into Jeno, practiced precision and rehearsed ‘sorries’ sounding less and less convincing as time goes on. One day, he thinks Jaemin will notice, but forgets that he is the only one who can turn back time, and that for the 501st time, Jaemin is not Jeno’s best friend, and they are strangers.

 

It still stings, it always does. And not about the fact that each attempt in going back to the day they met kills a part of him each time, ( _Though it probably should be_ ) but about the coffee that spills all over his sweater. His skin sticks to the fabric and the coffee that drenches his chest really does sting, and as much as Jeno dreads this part of their story, he knows it is a part he can’t change. He has to be careful, always so careful each time he goes back. The spilt coffee definitely isn’t the part he dreads the most.

 

The brief burn of the interaction is so easily forgotten when Jaemin drops his books, kneeling in front of him with endless, stuttering apologies. ( _“i’m so so so sorry, i’m so stupid, i’m so sorry, do you need any help?”_ ) but it’s, _“really fine, i swear”_ each time, because the smile he gives Jeno once they exchange names warms him more than a split cup of coffee ever could.

 

( _"I’m Lee Jeno.”_

 

_“Na Jaemin. Can I please repay you with a cup of coffee?”_

 

 _“That is the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard.” Jeno will always say this when he offers, but he always says yes anyway._ )

 

and for the 501st time, the rest, as they say, is history.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

It’s been 500 attempts in going back in time.

 

All 500 times, Jeno is in love with him.

 

The very first time they meet, sans the time-turner and all, Jeno always kind of knew. One cup of coffee turned into two, and then they were seeing each other every spare moment, everyday. Jaemin didn’t care that Jeno didn’t have much to say, he could certainly talk his mouth off for him, but he always listened. He laughed at every joke he said, regardless of how funny it actually was. He listened to every story, every whisper, every confession. He rubbed circles around his back after almost every single one of his nightmares, and was never scared away.

 

( _“I told you,” Jaemin whispered, when the night was long and Jeno lived for nothing. “I’m not afraid of anything. Especially not you. Never you.”_

 

_Jeno had sniffled in a way that should have been disgusting, but the look of fondness never left Jaemin’s face. “You cried riding Tower of Terror last week.”_

 

 _“Irrelevant, Tower of Terror is fucking frightening-” and it was all that Jeno needed to start laughing again_.)

 

It may be his mind playing games, or maybe he’s just falling deeper, but every time he comes back Jaemin’s more charismatic, more selfless, more loving. And each time Jeno tries so hard to make the other laugh a little harder, make his eyes shine a little bright despite being reduced to wrinkles every time he smiles.

 

He can’t help but be selfish, ( _trying to fight his feelings is so 200 attempts ago_ ) and though he walks down to their favourite cafe more times than is probably sane, he keeps trying to make him smile, and keeps every single one close. He won’t let go until he doesn’t have to, he swears it.

 

Each smile induced is a desperate plea to pull Jaemin out of the dark. ( _The butterflies making home in his stomach are only a sick, self-indulgent bonus_.)

 

The first couple hundred times, Jaemin never makes it to four months. Each time, Jeno would pick at his hair again and again when he makes a mistake and he loses him, some stretches of time shorter than the other. ( _One time Jeno tries not meeting Jaemin on their first day of classes, dodges the coffee and walks straight ahead. Jaemin is pronounced dead the very next morning._ ) Some attempts he gets months, others days. In all past attempts, Jaemin never lives to see the end of December. It was the one deadline, the one fixture of the time-turner and whatever sick force decided to toy with the strings of time. Jeno spends almost all his time hating it, until he doesn’t. Not anymore. He doesn't have the time to.

 

Jeno’s nights are always busy and his mind even busier, picking and digging layer under layer of Jaemin’s life. He takes his shot with anything that could be an issue, and by three hundred returns, he’s near mastered the art of analysing Jaemin, being with him. Reliving his days hundreds of times on end sounds psychotic, but he really wouldn’t have it any other way. The first few times felt like being stabbed over and over. Jeno couldn’t see any way for him to continue, but only the turner chooses what day to return, and each time he is brought back to the first day they met. It becomes tedious and exhausting until it doesn’t, and he sees how important going back to the beginning is, how every word coming from his mouth matters, every minute spent with him calculated to a tee. Jeno never knew which attempt triggered it, the hardening of his mind, the wiring of each decision, each breath he took to Jaemin's, but it is what it is. He knows nothing anymore of his live before him.

 

Jeno didn’t know when his brain patterned itself to his existence, until he was memorising his schedule, his outfit choices by day, the sound of his voice and the words he chose to say, and the brightness of his smile. He was biased towards the last of the list, but maybe he’s in love with him. _(Maybe it was the only thing keeping him grounded._ )

 

When Jaemin comes to him with stories about his day, the ones where they laugh about funny antics from his dance practices, where they speak way too loudly for the gossip they exchange, and most importantly the ones where he bares his heart on his sleeve and comes to Jeno, voice raw and shaking, they’re always sitting back against back in memorised motion- always a cup of coffee in hand. Jeno wishes each time that Jaemin would be holding his.

 

Jeno knows all the right words, knows exactly where to rub his back and when to slap him on the side when he’s being stupid.

 

“You know me better than I know me.” This, he hadn’t expected. It had been his 121st attempt, and this part was new. Jaemin laughs and Jeno wishes he could laugh with him. “I’d probably be dead without you.”

 

That day Jeno lets himself break and bursts into sobs that he can’t - would never explain. He expects Jaemin to poke fun at him, but he only holds him close and whispers empty reassurances in his ear. ( _Jeno wished he would laugh, but Jaemin knew better. He always does._ )

 

It was the last time Jeno ever let himself cry. He couldn’t allow it, couldn’t afford to.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

Jaemin has only lived to see December, 24 times. A ridiculously small number compared to the big picture.

 

On the first week of December, a switch is turned on in Jeno's brain like always. He feels it in the desperate way his hands tremble. He knows the shaking is so much worse within himself.

 

500 attempts makes for many changes Jeno could make. He stopped listing his options after the 357th, but there’s only so much you can do with four months. He can’t change however, that they are still Freshmen in College, in separate courses, and still have things like classes and projects. Jaemin will always have his dance team, the same way Jeno used to have his music. After the 70th redo, the feeling of the guitar in his hands felt foreign. (U _seless. Wrong. Disgusting._ ) Anything that didn’t have to do with Jaemin exhausted his brain, the same way he eventually stopped working in his classes, or keeping in touch with his other friends. The lack of remorse he feels by this barely makes him flinch.

 

( _“Math is methodical. Unforgiving. You just kind of have to... wire your brain to the process then everything becomes simple.” Jaemin says after a long day of studying, and a futile attempt of tutoring Jeno in his even more hopeless attempt to pass his Trigonometry 3 class._

_When Jeno groans for the nth time, Jaemin only greets him with a small smile. “You just gotta break everything down into smaller steps, see. Visualise your goal and recognise your variables, what you can do with them and what you can’t. Deal with them one at a time, and you can solve anything.”_

_Jaemin amazes him every time. “Since when did you get so smart?” Jeno shoves him, impressed laughter bubbling in his stomach._

_Jaemin’s usual confident demeanour is shattered by the sheepish smile on his lips. “Now come on, each small step counts, just take it one at a time. You’re smart too, you know. No problem is too big for you to handle.”_

 

 _And though he seriously doubts that, for the smallest of seconds, Jeno lets himself believe it._ )

 

⌛

 

Jeno’s stopped listing his actions and choices long ago, when they’ve started coming to him like well thought out formulas just waiting to be executed. He knows there’s only one major thing he hasn’t tried or rather, hasn’t dared doing. Jeno feels it in the way his heart hammers in his chest.

 

He’s walking towards their favourite cafe yet again, because he’s unoriginal and even with literally thousands of days spent with him, he still can’t think of anywhere else to meet. When he opens the door, Jaemin’s eyes meet his. One look and he knows they’re tired, but Jaemin still greets him with a smile and a warm, bone crushing, ‘Jaemin’ hug that Jeno usually pretends to hate. ( _Not today. For once, he’s had enough of pretending._ )

 

“You really ought to be on time, dude. Especially when you’re the one who decided to meet when it’s ass degrees Celsius out.” Jaemin says, but there’s no malice and the smile he has on his lips is fond.

 

“Sorry for getting caught in the snow, a force of nature which I do not control, believe it or not.” Jeno says, the insult and smile that comes out is easy. Everything is so easy with him, and also impossible.  

 

“Only proves my point.” Jaemin sighs and wow, he is so tired. Maybe this isn’t the time, but Jaemin leaves for his hometown tomorrow. Jeno curses at himself silently for his miscalculated timing, but he hates how new this all is, how difficult. How could you treat something so delicate methodically? He’s tried, he has the eyebags and sleepless nights of calculating outcomes to prove it. Though that was hardly a foreign occurrence for her, this was different. No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, this was so much more different.

 

“You’re spacing out again.” Jaemin frowns, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. “Are you okay?” He asks, softly and damn it, Jeno can’t make it about him. This ISN’T about him. “This isn’t about me.” He says, quicker and snappier than he means to be. Jeno forces a small smile onto his lips and unclenches fists he didn’t realise he closed.  He takes a breath. “I didn’t even realise. What time is your train tomorrow?”

 

“I’m catching the 6 am flight. The earlier I get there the better, you know.”

 

“Jesus Christ.”

 

Jaemin lets a breathless laugh leave his lips. “I know right. But you know my mom, she’s always on my ass about something.”

 

“They just miss you. You haven’t gone back since summer.” Jeno says, and it’s hard to fight the fondness in his voice when his lips curve upwards ever so slightly. “Why are you going back so early, anyway?” He asks, but before his question even has time to settle, Jaemin turns to the window beside them and widens his eyes.

 

“It’s snowing. It’s actually snowing. I never thought I’d see the day.” Jeno follows his gaze, and Jaemin is right. It isn’t supposed to snow today. Jeno knows this more than anyone. It’s been 24 December 2nds, and it’s never snowed before; He is too blinded by the twinkle in Jaemin’s eyes and the wonder in his voice to question to obscurity of it all.

 

“Do you wanna go outside?” Jaemin asks, though there is a finality in his voice that tells him that they’ll be going outside anyway. After dozens of ‘come ons’ and a tug of the hand, they’re off their chairs and out of the cafe. Jeno knows he would’ve gotten up anyway, but maybe Jaemin’s hand was warm around his. Maybe this time ( _the 501st time, but still the first time_ ), he’ll let his heart flutter.

 

It never stops, which really doesn’t make this any easier. Jeno’s heart hammers in his chest, he’s shivering, and all in all, there is too much of himself that’s shaking and much too unstable for his liking.

 

The walk is surprisingly quiet, it usually is on Jeno’s part, but Jaemin is filled with a quiet kind of admiration, catching snowflakes in one hand that were falling at increasing speeds.

 

“You never answered my question,” Jeno pipes up. He turns towards Jaemin and shakes the snow off his gloves. “Why are you going home so early this year?”

 

Jaemin shrugs and lets out a small smile. “No reason.” Jeno frowns. It is never no reason with Jaemin, but he can’t bring it in himself to pry. His mind is too clouded. Who knew this would take so much of his train of thought?

 

Jaemin kicks a snowy rock off the sidewalk and changes the subject quickly, like he won’t notice. He always does. “How about you? You’re supposed to be my best friend, but I barely know anything about your family. Holy shit. I don’t even know if you have siblings.”

 

“Well, I do. I have an older one. He’s older by about ten years.” When was the last time Jeno’s ever talked to him? Seen him?

 

What does he sound like?

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

“Parents?”

 

This is one topic he has never brought up with Jaemin for a reason. Jeno doesn’t remember the last time he spoke to his father either. ( _They’ve exchanged words, but they’ve never talked. Not really._ )

 

“My mom died when I was six. My dad and I are...” Jeno pauses until he settles upon a word. “Distant.” It’s the understatement of the year.

 

When Jaemin turns to him with kind eyes and shoulders sagging, Jeno’s immediately reminded of his intention. “These are the kinds of things best friends should know.” Jaemin says, with a pout that almost makes him feel bad. “You never talk about yourself.”

 

“I don’t have much to say.”

 

“You never do.” Jeno says, then turns away and returns to catching snowflakes. After a beat of silence, he turns back. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Jeno knows he doesn’t. “But you write a book before you start to speak.”

 

Jeno can’t fight the hitch in his throat. He knows this is a waste of time, (This isn’t about him, never should be.) but he can’t stop Jaemin’s train of thought, not when he’s staring right at him with thoughtful, interested eyes. They’re tired, they almost always are nowadays, but they’re pensive. Out of the hundred expressions of Jaemin’s, this one is one of his favourites. He doesn’t see it as often anymore.

 

“You’re always thinking, all the time.”

 

“You should try it sometime.”

 

Jaemin laughs, then brings up his hands to cup them around his mouth, blows gently into his gloves and rubs them together. It’s gotten significantly colder, and they were both starting to feel it.

 

“But you don’t say anything you don’t mean. Your words always carry weight.” When Jaemin turns to him, his cheeks and nose are flushed from the cold, extending all the way to the ends of ears. He smiles, eye smile gleaming back at him, and Jeno tries desperately not to fall apart.

 

It was so much easier being methodical.

 

Jaemin sighs and takes his hands. His mind goes overboard. “If you’ve stopped thinking and started feeling, first of all, you would’ve said something about how cold you are.” Jaemin slips the gloves off his hands and slides them into his. Jeno hadn’t realized he was shivering so hard until he nearly sighed of relief when the gloves were put on.

 

“You need these. Come on, you’re freezing.” Jeno says, but Jaemin is shaking his head, holding his hands up in the air. He does a small circle around him, spinning to avoid Jeno returning the gloves until he slips them back on in defeat. They’re soft and warm, and Jeno doesn’t look back up at him until Jaemin starts speaking again.

 

“You’re so careful,” He’s going off on another one of his tangents, but they’ve never been about Jeno. He hates that he’s self-conscious, doesn’t remember the last time he was. “So analytical, and calculated.”

 

“And you aren’t.” Jaemin’s changed his hair colour four times in two months, not even a record for how many times he’s re-lived their friendship.

 

( _“Why do you change your hair color so much?” Jeno asks him after Jaemin reveals his new hair, a bright blue that suited him so well. “You’ve given the smurfs a run for their money.”_

 

 _“Ha, ha. I change it when I’m bored, mostly according to my mood.” Jaemin traces his finger down his cheek miming a tear drop and pouts in the way he knows is adorable. “I’m blue.”_ )

 

“We balance each other out, see.”

 

“Yeah, but you’re _always_... thinking.”

 

“You’ve said that already.” Jeno points out. The snow at his feet has gone all the way up to his ankles. The trees around campus are dusted with white. “There’s a lot to think about.” He adds.

 

Jaemin stops walking when they reach a tree, and the specks of snow on his head melt into the brunette of his hair.

 

Jaemin is in front of her now, looking him dead in the eye, expectant, and Jeno’s itching to turn away. “If you could speak without thinking for once, what would you say?”

 

Jeno had a whole plan in his head, a whole script of sorts. He was going to list all the things he liked about him, - though really there is too much to count - tell Jaemin how much he means to him and how amazing the past four months have been. ( _How amazing they always are._ )

 

“I’m in love with you.”

 

He already said he wasn’t going to be methodical.

 

“What?” Jaemin asks, voice no more than a whisper.

 

“I’m in love with you.” Jeno says, louder this time, and he doesn’t realise he's been closing his eyes until he opens them.

 

Jeno feels everything and nothing, blames his rose tinted cheeks and his shaking on the cold.  

 

And Jaemin is still staring. Soft, beautiful. For once, he is impossible to read.

 

Jaemin takes one beat to let his eyes flutter, and the upward curve of his lips is nothing short of kindness. He never is. He looks radiant with the snow in his face and eyelashes, and his warm eyes locked to his. Jeno breathes, lets himself take in the sight and it’s beautiful. He knows that there is nothing Jaemin could say that would make him regret telling him.

 

( _There is nothing that could stop Jeno for loving him, period. He is completely, and utterly gone._ )

 

Wordlessly, Jaemin unravels the scarf around his neck and wraps it around his shoulders, hands on both ends to pull him in close. They’re close enough that he’s certain Jaemin can feel his heart beating, because Jeno can feel his. When he feels both hammering to the same rapid, frantic tune, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Probably both.

 

When Jaemin’s lips are pressed against his, they’re so much colder than he ever dreamed they would be, but the warmth that fills his chest is enough to forget about the snow. They’re both shaking, no longer because of the cold, and Jeno can’t fight the shudder that escapes his lips when they meet his. Jaemin tastes like his favourite kind of coffee, and like the winter breeze and months and months of waiting. Wishing, loving.  

 

It’s so, so gentle even when they part. When Jeno’s eyes manage to flutter open, he’s met first with flushed red cheeks, then a smile so filled with warmth, understanding, fondness. One he has never seen before. One Jeno hopes has been saved for him.

 

And then it’s worth it all over again. It always, always is.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

( _It’s 3 am when Jaemin calls him, breathless, quiet._

 

_“Hey,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper._

 

_“Jaemin, it’s 3 am. What are you-“_

 

_“Remember a few days ago? By the tree? I-I know it’s late. or early, I don’t know. I just wanted you to know if the... kiss didn’t make it clear enough,” Jaemin laughs and the small silence afterwards grows into something big and ugly settling in his gut._

 

_Neither on both lines are breathing._

 

_“I just want you to know that I love you. I love you too. so much.”_

 

_And Jeno already knows, (that Jaemin loves him. What’s going to happen next.) he does. He can’t find it in him to speak._

 

 _“Alright,” Jaemin breathes, finally. “I’ll see you soon.”_ )

 

The next morning, Jeno takes the first flight out to Jaemin’s hometown.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

The twelve hours on the plane are the longest twelve hours of his life. Jeno is wide awake the entire flight.  

 

It’s 7:00 pm by the time the plane is landed, and Jeno nearly cries in relief when he remembers that Jaemin’s family’s address is saved on his phone. He had saved it after a hard night and a 2 am phone call, when his mind was going overtime and nothing else would come into his brain except keeping him safe.

 

The feeling is similar now, but stretched and grown into something larger than what’s probably sane, larger than he knows how to deal with. Jeno stares down at his bleach white knuckles gripping onto the baggage handle. He tries to loosen his grip, but Seoul traffic is out of this world and it’s hard to breathe until the cab starts moving again.  It's unlike anything Jeno's ever experienced before. He's never felt his mind pound inside his skull or the surge of energy that races through his veins, catching fire. He's never been so close. He's so fucking close, he could touch it with his fingertips.

 

( _He's never felt what it's like to actually feel your sanity slip through your hands, didn't even know he was holding on to it._ )

 

There’s a clock counting down in his head, ticking. It’s painstakingly difficult to hear his own thoughts, and it might just drive him fucking insane, but he’d much rather be deafened by the sound than find out what happens when it stops.

 

He almost wishes he had time to regret the choices he didn’t make and the words he could have said, but he’s never had that luxury and doesn’t now. He knows that. Even when his brain is moving faster than he could ever process, he knows the only thing that needs to be done.

 

When he reaches Jaemin’s house, Jeno knocks until he’s sure his knuckles will bruise and anyone in the two story house could hear him. A woman with the second kindest eyes he’s ever seen opens the door with an urgent swing.

 

“Yes, what is it?” She asks. Her eyebrows are knit with confusion and mild irritation. They soften when they recognise him. “Oh, hello dear- are you alright?”

 

Jeno forces down a gulp. “Sorry to bother, but is Jaemin here?” His voice is so much shakier than he means it to be.

 

Jaemin’s mother notices, of course she does, but chooses not to ask. He wonders lamely if he’s that obvious, then he realises he doesn’t have the time. Neither does Jaemin, if the horrible gnawing in his gut is correct.

 

( _Jeno knows he’s right, but maybe a small part of him wants to toy with the possibility that he isn’t. Maybe it’s the small part of him left that’s still sane._

 

 _Hope, he realises, is an awfully human emotion._ )

 

“No, I’m sorry. He left about an hour ago. If you do see him, please tell him to come home for dinner. I’ve made him his favourite.”

 

Jeno unclenches his fist. His fingernails have formed crescent moons on his palm rimmed red with blood.

 

“Can I please borrow your car?”

 

The smallest of ‘thank you’s  leaves his mouth until he’s behind the wheel and on the road.

 

 

⌛

 

When Jeno arrives to the highway, a bitter, metallic taste fills his mouth. He barely registers the blood on his tongue, raw and stinging. The cars around him are filled with people rushing to where they need to be, lights flickering and unbeknownst that a boy walks among them, dangerously close to the edge of the sidewalk. They whir past in ridiculous speeds until they’re reduced to blurring colours in his eyes. His eyes that flick left and right, and are trained only to find Jaemin. Beautiful, loving, kind Jaemin walking and waiting to kill himself.

 

When Jeno sees him, finally: hooded in his favourite blue sneakers, so still and so small, the jolt of electricity that runs through his veins and makes his heart skip a beat feels like the only thing he needs to remember why he came. Why he always does, 500 times over. ( _That, and Jaemin’s name on his lips. Only him._ )

 

Jeno’s vision turns to red until Jaemin is all he can see. The ticking stops. The world around him and in his mind are silent.

 

Jeno has never gotten this close. He thinks he could cry, but he hears laughter escape his throat. He laughs, and laughs until it sounds foreign in his ear.

 

In all 500 occasions of going back in time, Jeno has never seen his face. He has never seen the look in his best friend’s eyes, never sees the the blinding headlights of the truck speeding his way. He has never been here, in the middle of the road, standing with the weight of the world on his shoulders, staring at the boy he loves. 

 

It’s so much quicker than Jeno could ever imagine, because all of a sudden he’s running, not quite sure if the screams in his head are leaving his mouth. Jaemin’s name is all that fills his mind and forms desperately on his lips. It’s Jaemin, forever Jaemin, even when Jeno’s eyes are blinded by the light and all he can hear is his heartbeat calling out to his. Begging it to beat a long.

 

“JAEMIN!”

 

Jeno doesn’t see the other cars moving so closely beside him, or Jaemin calling out his name. Jeno doesn’t hear the truck beeping right in front of them, because he sees _him_.

 

Their eyes meet, for a second. He is so much more beautiful than he’s ever known.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

Jaemin wakes up a day later to the news that Jeno is dead.

 

(Jeno. _His Jeno._ )

 

There can’t have been a more horrible sentence formed if he tried.

 

There can’t have been a more horrible mistake the universe could have made. It was Jaemin that was supposed to die. Jaemin that was supposed to get run over.

 

He doesn’t know how Jeno could have known, how he got there, what he was thinking or why he pushed Jaemin out of the way.

 

He can only remember falling onto his shoulder, horns honking and swerving away from his body as he lay on the concrete. the horrific thud that came from not far beside him and the pool of red that spilled all over the ground, reaching his fingertips and staining them. The blood dug underneath his fingertips and drenched his clothes until it was all that filled his mind and hands.

 

Jaemin can remember the tremor in his legs as he struggled to stand, collapsing beside his best friend’s body. (The boy he fucking _loves._ )

 

Jaemin can see his eyes, lifeless, and cold, and so unlike him. He’s told later that the crack in Jeno’s skull is deep and blood pools out of the side of his head, but all he can focus on is the smile on his face, tranquil and at ease.

 

( _Later, when Jaemin’s all alone and shattered to pieces, he’ll clutch his bloodied hoodie and sob until his voice is hoarse._

 

 _‘Why were you fucking smiling?’_ )

 

Jaemin’s sure that when he shakes, the ground shakes with him.

 

Carefully, quietly, Jaemin clutches his best friend’s dead corpse in his arms, holds him close, and screams.

 

He screams until the sun is up, and they force Jaemin away from his body. He doesn’t think he’ll ever stop.

 

 

 

⌛

 

 

 

Jeno’s funeral is small, and Jaemin stays by his side until he’s lowered to the ground.

 

( _Above his casket, a golden hourglass is hung by a chain, and sways in the wind._ )

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh boy oh boy ;"(
> 
> cry with me on twitter @youngkschwe !!! 
> 
> hope you enjoyed, sorry if it's a bit messy and grammatically incorrect. it's my first time writing maybe in half a year oh gosh
> 
> (ps. i may or may not have an epilogue/alternate ending that might be significantly less sad than this one. let me know if i should release it bc idk im kinda satisfied ending like this but.. nomin are sad so i am sad too ;( )
> 
> feedback would mean so much to me :( thank you and have an amazing day!!


	2. epilogue / alternative ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> surprise :)

* * *

Five months later, Jaemin takes the chain from off the door.

 

It’s not much, but when breathing used to feel like a knife to his lungs, it’s the small victories that count for something.

 

With his collar bone protruding out of his old sweatshirt and socks with one too many holes on his feet, he gets up when he hears a knock on his door. Not without waiting until it stopped, he had done so the first time, but the knocking turned louder, more urgent. When he stands, his calves still ache from his first dance practice back the day before.

 

He expects to see his teammates, or his old roommate renjun, maybe. They’ve been coming by more often than they’re invited, honestly, and it took awhile but Jaemin lets them now. He’s smart enough to realise when he hasn’t been eating. ( _Not that he acts upon it, but that’s a whole other shit show altogether._ )

 

He doesn’t recognise the man at the door.

 

“Na Jaemin?” The man asks. He’s holding a small package in his hand.

 

“I didn’t order anything.”

 

“Ah, no, I worked on your case? Three months ago?” Then he lowers his voice, as they always do. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”

 

Jaemin sighs, solemn. It’s what he’s grown to be. “I am, too.”

 

“We’ve recently recovered one of the items Lee Jeno had on him the day of the accident.”

 

“They’ve cleared all that up months ago.” He frowns.

 

“Not this one. This one’s left under your name. We’re sorry for not finding it sooner.” There’s a tone of finality in his voice that ends their interaction. “Take care, sir.” The man gives Jaemin a curt nod, hands him the package, and then he’s gone as quickly as he appeared.

 

Jaemin does a quick spin of the box. It’s packaged well, taped shut and secured. He places it down on his kitchen counter and tears through the tape. Inside is a small velvet pouch, and he figures there are one too many packing peanuts for what it contains.

 

A golden chain glimmers under the yellow light of his kitchen. He takes it in his hand, dangles it up to the sky  and furrows his brows. There’s an hourglass encapsulated in a glass ball of sorts, and he remembers it faintly, from the funeral. To say Jaemin is confused is an understatement.

 

That night, he hangs up the necklace? Amulet? in his room. His eyes are drawn to the thing like a magnet. Deeper into the night, it almost seems illuminated by the moonlight, and Jaemin has too many thoughts and questions than he knows what to do with. Though this isn’t unusual per se, (Jeno is always on his mind)  curiosity gets the best of him despite it being 2 am at earliest. He hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in months, anyway.

 

Jaemin holds the chain in his hand, and grazes a finger over the hourglass. With a gentle push, the pendant turns once, then twice, until he is blinded by a flash of light.

 

⏳

  
  


He feels first, before he sees, filled with an uncharacteristic warmth that he never gets from within his apartment. Jaemin slowly opens his eyes to the sun hitting his skin; it’s brighter than he’s seen in months.

 

His eyes adjust to a sight that’s too familiar. The noise around him fills his ear so naturally, his ears trained to the buzz. The building that towers in front of him is one he’s seen a hundred times over.

 

Jaemin doesn’t have the time to question what the fuck is going on, and why he was on campus grounds. All around him people are bustling with life, so much more than usual. He finds his way to the huge ‘Welcome’ sign in front of him, but he knows he didn’t need to see it. He knows this day. Maybe the Freshmen ID around his neck is a give away, but maybe it’s the way his lungs squeeze inside him.

 

His eyes spot him first before his brain follows. Jaemin can’t breathe.

 

The wake up call is abrupt and forceful. He feels a hard shove from the wave of students rushing into the building behind him. The chain slips out of his hands and onto the ground, the hourglass shattering under the weight of some unbeknownst student. ( _Unaware that they’ve changed Jaemin’s life forever_ )

 

Jaemin only remembers he has books in his hands once they’re scattered on the ground below him. It takes the sound of his overpriced textbooks hitting the floor for everything to sink in, at least the best it could. He knows now ( _where he is, what’s happening, what- or who he’ll see next_ ); maybe he’s known since he arrived, once he felt the sun on his skin and his heart starts soaring.

 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jaemin laughs, he thinks, because he could listen to his voice forever, array of curses and all.

 

“Uh.. are you okay? Oh my God, are you crying?”

 

Jaemin touches his cheeks. After a beat, he wipes them away hurriedly and lets out a small laugh. “Sorry. I’m so sorry about your sweater, I should be asking if you’re okay and-and I’ll pay you back for your coffee, swear. I’m... sorry.” He concludes lamely, because he isn’t, not when Jeno’s staring right at him. Beautiful, thoughtful, and compassionate Jeno, glowing and _alive_.

 

Thought Jaemin feels absolutely insane, and is sure he looks it too, Jeno’s eyes soften. For a second he thinks that Jeno remembers him, but they’re strangers now. Jaemin swears, on all he can, that he is going to change that.

 

“Right. If you’re sure,” The shy smile that Jeno gives him sends his heart racing, but that’s nothing new. “And it’s really fine, I swear.”

 

“I’m Lee Jeno.” Of course, he knows that. Jaemin feels like he’s flying, anyway.

 

If the crushed glass from the now broken hourglass hurts from beneath his knees, he doesn’t notice. “Na Jaemin.” He says, when he finds his words and stops smiling, though he feels like he never will.

 

“Can I.. Can I please repay you with a cup of coffee, at least? If that’s okay with you.”

 

When they shake hands, it’s warm and real. He’s real.

 

Jeno looks up from their intertwined fingers, and smiles.

 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

 

_The universe is a curse, but maybe we’ll be alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay a happy ending!!! i couldn’t bear to leave jeno and jaemin too upset and all of you as well of course. you may choose which ever ending you prefer, whether you like the depressing open endedness or this, sort of hopeful ever after. :”) i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i enjoying writing it ♡ feedback would mean so much to me!!
> 
> thank you so so much! follow me @youngkschwe on twitter if you fancy :)


End file.
